


Conversations

by ZionAngel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formerly "Summoner."  Post-finale, spoilers.</p><p>Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have found each other once again.  But after all that has happened, there are many, many things to be discussed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summoner

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 was originally the stand-alone fic "Summoner." But Belle and Rum had quite a bit left to talk about after that, and this little story just didn't want to be a one-shot. If you've already read "Summoner," head on over to chapter 2.

The trees, the land, the air, the very world itself shudders as magic pours into the realm and permeates everything it touches.  Rumpelstiltskin watches as it rolls through the land, so strong and tremendous that it takes shape and form.  When the thick cloud of purple smoke finally dissipates, when the birds sing and the trees hum at the new wonder of it, at the sheer joy of being _alive_ in a way they never were before, he looks around only to find himself standing alone.

His heart races as he fights down panic.  He reaches out into the air around him with long-dormant senses and searches for her, while at the same time limping back to the path.  He isn’t sure if his eyes or his mind find her first, but all the same, he rounds a massive, ancient tree, and finds her standing in the middle of the small clearing.  He sighs with relief and calls her name.  But even as he approaches her, even though he has not seen her in thirty years, he can see in her posture that something is wrong.

“Belle?” he murmurs as he touches her shoulder.  “Are you all right?”

She turns to him slowly, and backs away.  Her eyes are cold, her brow drawn tightly together.

“When I left…” she begins, and licks her lips, “you told me that your power meant more to you than me.  In all that time I never _once_ believed that you really meant it… not until now.”

A cold fist grips his heart, and for a moment he can’t find his words.  “I _didn’t_ mean it, Belle.  I was a coward and a fool to turn you away.  I’ve regretted it every day since, I -”

He takes a step toward her.  She takes two back.  “Then what is this?”  She gestures to the world around them, looking stricken, furious, fierce.  “Why do this?  Why, _immediately_ after I tell you that I remember who you are, and that I love you, right after you _claim_ to love me, why is your power the first thing you think about?  Does it really mean so much more to you that you can’t take two minutes to talk to me and kiss me before you go lusting after your precious power again?”

The hand of ice at his heart squeezes and twists and _destroys_ him, and he knows now what Regina’s many victims must have felt just before they met their end by her magic.  But this is no death spell.  He has nothing to blame for this but his own human stupidity and cowardice and single-mindedness.  This, it seems, is the price he must pay for hurting her over and over, and for hurting her still.

“Time is of the essence right now, dearie,” he tries to explain, not sure what else to say.  “There wasn’t a moment to waste.”

The fury in her face transforms, melts away and turns to _pain_.  “Why do you even need it at all?  We found each other again, we’re together.  We can be happy _together_!”

“It’s complicated…”  He wants nothing more than to go to  her, take her in his arms and whisper his love to her over and over until all her doubts vanish, but pain and anger radiate out from her like a barrier, forcing him away as strongly as any magic.

Belle shakes her head, and her eyes transform from soft, inviting depths into cold, hard steel.  “The only thing I see is that you love your power more than me, and that’s not complicated at all.”

She turns on her heel and marches away from him, so very much like she did decades and realms ago, and around him, Rumpelstiltskin’s world cracks and crumbles and dies around him.  He cannot lose her, not again, not now, not after he only just got her back, he cannot see her turn and reject him again.  Even with all that he’s worked for and still has left to do, if he loses her, he will surely wither away and die from the pain.  His mind races round and round in circles, tripping over itself and growing dizzy as he tries to think of something to say, anything, so long as it will make her stop, forgive him, _stay_.  And as she walks farther and farther away from him, miles and miles away and out of his life and heart forever, his mind falls into the only thing that will save him, the only thing there is to do.

She told him so very long ago that she merely had to take the leap, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow with her and carry her through.  And though he is forever a coward deep inside, he prays the same will work for him, too.

He takes a deep breath and calls out after her.  “I need the power because of my son, Belle.”  She stumbles to a halt, like he has shocked her, and he drives forward before he has a chance to stop.  “I need it to find my son.”

She holds her ground.  She does not turn to look at him, and he sees her hands clench into fists.  He hurries after her and stops behind her when she is just out of arm’s reach.  He takes a deep, steadying breath, and continues quietly.  “His name is Balefire.  I told you that I lost him.  He came to this world, and I was supposed to come with him… but I was a coward and a fool and I lost him.  And now I need magic so that I can find him again.  So that I can make things right.”

Still she does not move.  She does not turn and smile at him, but she does not storm away and leave him behind.  It’s a good sign.  He takes a few cautious steps forward to stand beside her, still keeping some distance, as though she is a deer that might startle and run off.  Her face is turned down, hidden by her tangled hair.  He takes a half step forward, close enough to touch her, but he keeps his hands at his sides.  He swallows away the lump of fear in his throat, and when he continues, his words come out as a soft murmur.

“But I know he’s not the only one I need to apologize to, or the only one that I need to make amends with.  You were right all along, Belle.  I don’t care about power more than you.  But I do _need_ my power so that I can find Baelfire.”  Carefully, slowly, he reaches out and brushes his hand against her shoulder.  “There is nothing in this realm, or any other, that I love more than you.  There is one thing I love _as much_ as you, and that is my son.  But beyond that, _nothing_ compares to my love for you.  Please, _please_ believe that.”

She turns, just the tiniest bit, and he can see her eyes through the curtain of hair.  She waits.

“I have a lot to explain, and a lot to tell you about, and a lot to apologize for.”  His voice cracks, and he must fight to get the words out.  “But I _swear_ to you, Belle, I love you with all my heart… and I will _never_ hurt you, or shut you out, or choose my power over you _ever_ again.  I promise.”  His voice breaks, and he feels hot tears fall down his face.

Belle turns her head away.  She takes a deep breath, fighting for control over her own emotions.  She raises a hand to her face, and he hears her sniffle.  He wants to wipe her tears away himself, but he only waits.  She looks up through the dappled light of the trees and to the morning sky above, and she’s quiet for a long time.  He can feel her letting the magic wash over her, ground her in the earth below her feet and help her stand tall and steady and brave in the face of everything.

“If I kiss you are you going to pull away from me again?”

His heart breaks, from pain as much as joy.  “No.  Never again.”

She turns to look at him, head held high.  Her eyes are red from the tears, and her cheeks are pink from the cool morning air.  She faces him fully, and closes the space between them.  She stares up into his eyes, and he can feel her boring all the way down to his dark, broken soul, and the intensity of the gaze nearly sends him to his knees.  And she must see something deep down inside, that little flicker of light that she saw all those years ago, that made her think him redeemable, that made her somehow, incredibly, love him.  She must see it, because she brings her hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks in a way that should not possibly be so intimate.  She brushes the pad of her thumb over his lips, lightly, only a whisper of a touch, and his lips part for her with a gasp.  She leans up, and presses her lips to his, and the world is crumbling around him all over again, but this time he couldn’t care less.

When she pulls away, she leaves his lips warm and tingling and aching for more.  She leans her forehead against his and sighs deeply.  He feels her whole body relax.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes we do.”  He pushes her hair away from her face, and cradles the back of her neck.  For the first time since she came back to him, he lets the world around them fall silent, and just lets himself cherish and _love_ the woman in his arms.  “I can take you home now.  If you like.”

Belle nods, and links her arm with his, and lets him lead her out of the forest.


	2. Death Song

Rumpelstiltskin leads her from the thickest part of the woods.  As they climb over fallen logs and uneven ground, he offers her his hand like a perfect gentleman, helping her keep her balance.  Each time, he smiles at her softly, lovingly, and strokes a warm thumb over her knuckles before letting go.  By the time they reach a more manageable path, he barely puts any weight on the cane, carrying it more than anything else.  Whatever injury he has now, his magic must be growing strong enough to ease any pain.

Belle follows close beside him as he leads the way, her mind still reeling from everything that has happened, everything that she’s learned in only the past few hours.  It’s a struggle to keep up with all of it, to sort it all out in her mind to fully understand everything that’s going on, and all that’s still to come.

They walk along the path in silence for several minutes, until one curious detail works its way to the forefront of her thoughts.  She slides her arm back through his, pulling him closer as they walk.  “Did you think I was dead?”

He only glances at her, but in that quick flash, his eyes are full of sorrow and despair and _pain_.  “Yes,” he answers softly.  “After you left… the queen told me that when you got home, your father rejected you.  She said that he, uh… that he locked you away in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse your soul in horrible ways.  She said he rejected you because of me.”  Guilt permeates his voice, and his words carry a slight tremble.  “That he and everyone else thought I had… _tainted_ you, that we had slept together and that you needed to be rid of my evil.  It wasn’t exactly a stretch for me to believe that.”

Belle stares at him, and only keeps moving forward because of his gentle tug on her arm.  It is, by far, one of the most absurd lies she has ever heard in her life.  “But… you really believed my father would _kill_ me?”  He would _never_ do anything of the sort, no matter what happened to her.

“She said you killed _yourself_.  She said you threw yourself off the tower to end the torture.  It just seemed so like you to do that… to take your fate into your own hands and refuse to let them hurt you anymore.”

Belle’s heart sinks, and she squeezes his arm.  That part, if nothing else, does sound just like something she would do, if she ever found herself in such a hopeless situation.  Still, though, it seems so hard to believe that Rumpelstiltskin, of all people, could be so easily tricked.  “And you just believed her?”

He shakes his head.  “I didn’t want to.  I went back to your kingdom to try to find you.  I looked everywhere, tried to find you with magic.  And I posed as a traveler and asked if there was a princess there.  Everyone said ‘not anymore’ and didn’t elaborate…  I tried to find you anywhere else with magic, but I never could.  No other explanation made sense.”

Perhaps it’s the renewed magic in the world, heightening her senses and giving her a brief glimpse of what’s happening deep within her lover’s heart, or perhaps she can simply read it in the way he carries himself and the lines in his face.  Whatever the reason, she can sense the deep, raw guilt he feels at not rescuing her, at being completely unaware as she sat in the queen’s prison for years.

She sighs.  That, at least, is no fault of his.  She rubs his arm gently as she speaks.  “I never even made it home.  I got about halfway and stopped at a mining village for the night.  I missed you so much, and I just felt so sad and alone…  I wound up talking to someone else who had unexpectedly fallen in love, and I just decided that I couldn’t let things end like that.  The next morning I started back towards your castle.  The queen kidnapped me that afternoon.”

He clutches at her arm almost painfully, and his voice shakes as he asks, “Did she hurt you?”

She shakes her head, rubbing his arm again in soothing circles.  “No, just… locked me away in her dungeon.  I tried everything I could think of to escape, but…”  She shrugs, remembering so many valiant but failed efforts.  “I once heard the guards mention that she had a spell over her prison to keep the people there hidden, even from magic.  That must be why you couldn’t find me.  I asked her once why she wanted me, why she was doing that to me.  She said I was one of her most valuable assets, and that she might be able to use me to make a deal with you one day.”  Belle smiles.  “I never believed you in the first place when you said you didn’t love me.  But when she told me that, it just confirmed it.  You could only be willing to deal for me if you loved me.”

Without warning, he stops walking and spins her around, pulling her into an embrace so tight it hurts.  He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and she can feel his tears against her skin.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and he sounds as desperate as he did when she first entered his shop, when he promised to protect her.  “I’m sorry I treated you that way, I’m sorry I sent you away.  I was such a coward, I never should have shut you out.  I’m so sorry, Belle.”

He _sobs_ into her hair, and he sounds so broken that it frightens her.  She wraps her arms around him, holding as tight as she can so that he knows she’s there and real and safe.  “Shh, shhhh.  It’s all right.  I’m right here.  I’m safe.”

She holds him like that for several minutes, rubbing small circles over his back.  She waits patiently as all his years of grief and guilt and loneliness finally find an outlet.  Slowly, by degrees, his shaking and tears subside, and his arms loosen around her.  He holds her for a few minutes more, calmly.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough to see her face.  “You were really coming back?  After all those horrible things I said to you, after… after everything I did…”

Belle can’t help the wide, bright smile that spreads across her face, or the overjoyed laugh that escapes her lips.  “I fell in love with a complete _idiot_.  I couldn’t very well just go along with it if you’re dumb enough to send me away.”  She brushes the tears from his cheeks, and sees a hint of a smile.  “The first thing I was going to do was slap you for being so stupid.  And then I was going to tell you to stop being such a damn coward.  And then I was just going to stay in the castle and wait for you to come to your senses and let me love you.”

His small smile carries both love and remorse, and he leans his forehead against hers with a sigh.  “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Belle closes her eyes and breathes him in.  Sitting in the queen’s prison, she had a long, long time to think over everything he had done, everything she had done, and all that she hoped to do if she ever saw him again.  She knows she made a few mistakes of her own.  She regrets not talking to him about True Love’s Kiss before trying it (and now, knowing of his search for Baelfire, it makes sense that he would want to keep his powers).  She regrets ever letting him push her into walking out of the castle in the first place.  Her mistakes were not nearly as numerous as his own, but she _had_ made a few, and she admits it readily.  Sitting in the prison, she wished over and over, night after night, that she could go back and do things differently.

She was angry when she turned around and marched back to the Dark Castle, the day the queen abducted her.  She stayed angry for a long time during her captivity.  But after a while, as she missed him more and more, her loneliness and regret began to overpower the anger.  Eventually, it just seemed so utterly _pointless_ to be angry or bitter.  Anger wouldn’t let her go back and change the past.  Anger wouldn’t make him be any less of a cowardly fool.  Anger wouldn’t bring her happiness if she ever got to see him again.  When she first left the castle, she wanted nothing more than to unleash her anger upon him, make him regret his actions and understand just how stupid he had been.  But after several months in a lonely cell, she dreamed only of smiling at him, declaring her love for him in no uncertain terms, and throwing her arms around him.  Nothing else seemed important.

It shouldn’t surprise her, really.  During the ogre wars, Belle saw many soldiers ride off into battle with only a few hours notice, and many who came back after long and bloody battles they never expected to survive.  She heard last messages left for loved ones, and welcome home greetings.  Never once, in all that time, did she hear them speak of anger, or grudges, or hatred.  Each and every time, without fail, the soldiers and their families gave only messages of love and forgiveness.  In the end, it was all that really mattered.  She loved Rumpelstiltskin, that foolish, cowardly, wonderful man, and she had wanted only to feel the joy of telling him so, and hearing him say it back.  There was simply nothing else that mattered.

Belle smiles, and brushes a hand against his cheek.  She has him now.  He has willingly, openly told her he loves her, and sworn to stand by her.  And, if nothing else, Rumpelstiltskin’s word is his bond, as good as gold.  And yes, perhaps at some point there will be a long talk about what happened between them  all those years ago, but right now, she’s happy and in love, and she simply can’t bring herself to care about anything else.

“I forgive you.”

He stares at her, wide-eyed, his lip trembling.  Belle just smiles, and runs her hand through his hair.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his eyes full of awe and gratitude and love.

“No, you probably don’t,” she agrees, and nips a kiss to his lower lip.  “But it’s all right.  I love you anyway.”


	3. Chapter 3

Belle holds his hand tightly in hers the rest of the way through the woods.  The whole world is reeling, but his hand is warm and reminds her of all the promises and apologies and vows of love he’s given her in only the last half hour.  It is warm and firm and gentle in her own hand, and it keeps her steady, gives her something to follow as her mind and the world storm around her.  As they emerge from the treeline and head towards his car, parked along the side of the deserted road, she remembers his hand around her when they first struck their deal.  It was not nearly so comforting back then.

This thought spurs another, and she stops him short as he moves to open the car door for her.

“Is my father here?  Is he all right?”

She could swear he flinches, but when he looks at her his face is carefully – intentionally – blank.  “Yes, he’s here.”

Belle smiles, trying to stay calm and keep her emotions steady, but she left her Papa so suddenly, and has missed him so terribly, that it is all but impossible to keep calm.  “I want to see him.”

He nods once, hesitating for a fraction of a second.  “Of course.  I’ll take you to him.”  He opens the door and lets her past him.  But just as she is about to slide into the car, he stops her with a hand on her arm.  “Belle, before we see him… well… a while back I did something that I’m not proud of.  I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it.  I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry for it, and I only did it because… never mind, it doesn’t matter why I did it.  But I do apologize.”

Belle stares at him in confusion, and he averts his eyes, looking guilty.  Nonetheless, Belle nods her understanding, and sits down.

The drive through the still-empty streets of the little town is unnerving.  She knows she has never seen the quiet village or anything within it before, yet so many buildings and landmarks trigger some vague sense of familiarity.  She opts to look down at her hands instead.  She fidgets, rubbing her hands or tugging at the hem of her oversized sweater.  The ride cannot take more than a few minutes, but it stretches on and on, and she almost wants to tell him to just drive faster, as there are no other cars on the streets.  Instead, he reaches into her lap unbidden, and squeezes one hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“Almost there, Love.”  After a few more turns, he parks the car along the sidewalk, and points to a small apartment building across the street.  “There, lower level on the right,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out.

Belle doesn’t wait, and as soon as she manages to fumble out of her own seatbelt and open the door, she’s running across the street.  She barely stops herself from running _into_ the door, and she pounds on it with a tight fist, calling for her papa in a voice that borders on desperation.  In a moment, the door flies open, and she nearly falls through the suddenly open space.  And then Belle looks up, and sees her father’s stunned and heartbroken face for the first time in what must be a hundred years, and she throws herself into his arms.  “Papa!”

He clutches at her like he doesn’t believe she’s real, as if he, too, thought her dead and gone.  He pushes her back just enough to see her face, all smiles and eyes brimming with tears.  “Belle?  Are you all right?”  He pushes her tangled hair back, still in shock.

She laughs, and a few tears run down her cheeks.  “I’m fine, Papa,” she says, nodding.

Finally, he seems convinced that she is truly here, and he surprises a yelp out of her by picking her up and spinning her around as if she were a child.  “Oh, my girl!  I thought I’d never see you again.”  When he finally sets her down, she finds him teary-eyed as well.  She laughs, truly overjoyed, and hugs him as tight as she can.

After a few moments, she hears the door click shut.  “I’ll give you two some privacy,” Rumpelstiltskin says quietly.

She feels her father tense instantly, as if readying for battle, when he notices the other man.  But Belle holds him tight, and he doesn’t move until Rumpelstiltskin disappears around the corner and into another room.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Belle pulls back, smiling reassuringly.  “It’s okay, he brought me here.”

He takes her by the shoulders, his hands a little too tight, and his face has a fierceness that she only ever saw when he stood over the war table, planning a battle against the ogres.  “Did he hurt you?  Before, when he took you away?”

Belle remembers what Rumpelstiltskin said earlier, before he drove her here.  She’s starting to worry what might have happened, but she keeps smiling, and shakes her head calmly.  “No, he didn’t.  It’s all right Papa, he’s really not as bad as he seems.”

“Not as _bad_?” he hisses, suddenly fiery with rage.  “Belle, he’s violent, he’s dangerous!”  He keeps his voice pitched low, as if afraid the other man will overhear from the next room.

She purses her lips, and speaks carefully.  “What happened?  He told me he did something he was sorry for but he didn’t tell me what.”

“Sorry for?  He beat me within an inch of my life, I was in the hospital for a week!”  He pulls her further into the room, pulls her down to the couch along with him.

Anger flashes through Belle’s mind, a sudden fury mixed with the same defensiveness and need to protect her loved ones that made her accept that fateful deal in the first place.  But in the next moment, she remembers what he told her in the woods, the pain in his voice when he told her how he thought she was dead.  It eases the anger considerably, and when she gathers herself to speak, she mostly just feels sorry for the both of them.  “Why?  What happened?”

Her papa sighs, and the words come out in an angry, somewhat guilty grumble.  “I took out a loan from him to buy a truck.  The terms were outrageous, and I got a little behind on the payments, and he repossessed it.  Regina, the mayor, she convinced me that if I stood up to him, got some leverage, I could do something about it.  In hindsight I was pretty foolish to go along with it, and she asked me to take something to give to her, so she was obviously working her own agenda –”

“Wait, ‘take something’?  Papa, what exactly did you do?”

He sighs again.  “I broke into his house and stole some of his precious antiques.”

Oh, well that’s just _stupid_.  She fights the urge to roll her eyes and bury her face in her palms.  He rambles on just the same.

“And then the Sheriff came here and found everything I had taken and gave it back to him, but he’s so bloody violent and unstable that he kidnaps me, drags me off to some cabin out in the middle of nowhere and beats me with his cane until the sheriff showed up and stopped him.  All because he didn’t get back the one damned little teacup Regina wanted me to give her.  One lousy teacup, and he nearly beats me to death!”

Belle perks up at that, now far more intrigued than she was by the tale of foolishness versus violent tempers.  “A teacup?  With a chipped rim?”

He raises an eyebrow, and seems confused that she focused on such a little detail.  “Yes.  How did you know that?”

Butterflies flutter through her heart, a gentle, wonderful sensation.  She fights back a brilliant smile, and manages to contain it to only a small grin.  “Papa…” she starts slowly, knowing she must tell him this but unsure how to begin.  “A few months after I went with Rumpelstiltskin, he let me go.  But Regina, the queen, she kidnapped me before I could make it home.  She told him that I _did_ get home and that you had me locked up and tortured because you thought I had been tainted by his evil.  He thought you had me _killed_ , Papa.”  Her heart aches just saying it.  “And that cup?  I broke it the first day I was at his castle.  It was the only thing he had left of me.”

Her father stares at her incredulously, shocked as he tries to deduce where this explanation is headed.  “He let you go?”

She nods, and takes a deep, steadying breath.  “Papa, I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen and not get upset.  Can you do that for me?”

His face softens.  “Of course, Belle.”

She sits up straighter, and forces herself not to fidget or bite her lip.  _Do the brave thing_ , she reminds herself.  “I had a lot of time to get to know Rumpelstiltskin while I was at the castle.  And… I love him.”

“You _what_?!  Belle, have you gone _mad_?  He’s –”

“Papa, please,” she begs, squeezing his hand tight.  He stops talking, but there is still fury in his face when he looks at her.  “I know this sounds like a horrible idea.  I know that he’s not the kind of man you wanted for me.  I know that he’s done a lot of very bad things… some of them quite recently.”

She sighs, smiling gently at a dozen little memories.  “But… he has a good heart deep down.  I _love_ him, Papa.  I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I do.  I can’t help it,” she explains with a shrug.  “I love him the same way, and just as much as Mama loved you.  And I can’t control how I feel any less than she could.  I love him.  And he loves me.  He makes me happy, and I want to be with him.”

His face is softer now, but still wary.  And he’s silent, not interrupting or protesting, and it’s a good sign.  She always did have her papa wrapped around her finger, and she has never been more grateful for that fact than now.

“I know this is hard for you to accept, Papa,” she continues gently, but firmly.  “But you need to understand that I am not asking for your permission.  I am only asking for your blessing.  I love him.  And you can’t stop me any more than you could the night I went with him.  You don’t have to welcome him with open arms, you don’t even have to like him.  All I ask is that you trust me to know what I’m doing, and be civil to him, and not stand in the way.  It doesn’t change anything with you and me.  You’ll still be my papa.”  She smiles to reassure him, and waits.

He stares at her intently for several long moments, as though he might call her bluff.  But finally he acquiesces with a long, defeated, unhappy sigh.  “There’s really no changing your mind on this, is there?”

She shakes her head.  “No.”

“And he really makes you happy?”

“Very,” she whispers with a smile.

He sighs again, as though he is intentionally trying to make his displeasure with the whole situation abundantly clear.  “Well I guess I can’t very well make my only daughter feel guilty just for falling in love, can I?”

Her entire body instantly relaxes.  She hadn’t even realized how tense she was.  “Thank you, Papa.”  She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly, grateful that, for now at least, all of the important things have been discussed and decided.  “I missed you so much.”

He chuckles and rubs a hand over her shoulders.  “I missed you too, my darling.  Are you hungry?  Would you like breakfast?”

She pulls back and runs a hand through her oily, tangled hair.  “Uh… I’d like to take a shower, actually.”

“All right,” he smiles.  “I’ll make us something while you do that.”

Belle hops up from the couch and hurries out of the room.  Down the hall, she finds Rumpelstiltskin in the kitchen.  He stands in front of the sink, leaning on the counter and looking positively forlorn as he stares out the window.  He was right that she would be angry about what he did to her father.  And she is, a bit.  But he did admit to it, and did apologize to her.  And considering the why and the circumstances and the two men involved, it’s not terribly surprising.  It’s forgivable, even.  Most of all, though, she loves him, and knows that he is terribly, horribly flawed, and she spent too long in the queen’s dungeon soul-searching and forgiving him for everything to let this come between them.

He doesn’t hear her until she stands beside him.  He looks down at her, eyes full of worry.  Belle only smiles, and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.  She then says sternly, “ _Apologize_.  And be nice.”  And as quick as she came, she turns and leaves.

In the undisturbed bedroom, hers but not, she again finds many familiar things that she has never seen before in her life.

… …

Rumpelstiltskin stares, dumbfounded, as Belle kisses and smiles and scolds and leaves the room, no more angry than if he were a child who pushed a friend on the playground.

As soon as she’s gone, her father enters the room, no longer a peasant florist but a king again, with all the bearing and force of the title.  And though he may not be the most fit of men, nor a great fighter since he was many decades younger, he is still quite a bit taller and larger than Rumpelstiltskin.  He manages to look a great deal more imposing and menacing than the meek little man he encountered months ago.

 “You love my daughter?” he barks.

Rumpelstiltskin hesitates.  He’s not used to feeling quite so… small.  He stands up straighter, and looks Sir Maurice straight in the eye.  “I do.”

“Then you listen to me,” the man says, _growling_ like an animal as he stands close and tall and intimidating, pointing a finger right in Rumpelstiltskin’s face.  “If you _ever_ lay one finger on her in anger, if you break her heart, if you ever hurt her in _any_ way, I swear by all the gods in all the realms, I will destroy you or die trying.  I don’t give a damn _how_ powerful you are!  You hurt my daughter and I will make you pay!”

“I would never –” he begins in protest, but is cut off.

“Do you understand the rules?” Maurice bites out menacingly.

Rumpelstiltskin shrinks back a little.  He probably deserved that.  “Yes,” he forces, remembering Belle’s commands.  “And… I’m sorry.  For almost beating you to death.”

“You did it because you thought I had her killed?”

He glances to Maurice again, then away.  “Yes.”

Maurice _humphs_ angrily, then stomps over to the fridge.  He pulls out eggs and milk and other items, setting them down on the counter a bit too forcefully.  Rumpelstiltskin finds it rather confusing, and, unsure what else to do, heads towards the door of the kitchen as quietly as he can.  He makes it about halfway before Maurice shoves a block of cheese into his chest.  “Grate this,” he commands.

And thus, Rumpelstiltskin finds himself making breakfast with the man he nearly beat to death, who very clearly would like to return the favor, but instead settles for passive-aggressively barking cooking instructions every few minutes.  And when Belle returns to the kitchen some time later, looking absolutely breathtaking in a fluffy yellow bathrobe, her face framed by dripping wet curls, Maurice is all smiles and pleasantness, letting her think they are the best of friends.

It’s definitely one of the stranger things that has occurred in the last twenty-four hours.


	4. Chapter 4

It is well after midnight when he finally finishes, and Belle gets up from the couch to make yet another pot of tea.  After a rather awkward (for him, at the very least) breakfast with her father, they all agreed (though Maurice did so reluctantly) that the safest place for Belle was at Gold’s house.  There was sure to be hell to pay when Regina discovered her little bargaining chip had escaped, and it would be easiest for him to create wards and protection spells around his own home.

They settled on the couch almost immediately after walking through the door, and he told her everything.  He told her about Baelfire, the ogres, Zoso, every last atrocity and sin he had committed in the path to creating the curse, and why he did it all.  He held nothing back, uttered not a single lie or half-truth.  He owed her that, at the very least.  He knew she may well hate him for it, but better to get everything out on the table now, he figured, than to keep secrets only to have her find out later on and never forgive him.  Belle was quiet for the most part, asking questions and offering condolences as he told her his story.  They threw a few things together for dinner, drank pot after pot of tea.  Through it all, Belle never grew angry, never looked upon him with revulsion or disdain or hatred.  In the end, she only pressed close against him, squeezed his hand, kissed him on the cheek, and told him again that she loved and forgave him.

Belle comes back with their teacups, handing him his and setting her own on the coffee table.  She stretches and walks around the room for a few minutes, looking at his trinkets and antiques and baubles.  His eyes never leave her as he drinks.

He adores her, and he’ll protect her at any costs, and never turn her away again.  He’ll do whatever it takes to be sure of that.  Even so, try as he might, he can’t picture his future with her in it.  He imagines is plans, all the possible scenarios, and how things might play out when it is all over, but he simply can’t work out how she fits into any of it.

After a little while, Belle yawns and returns to the couch, curling up with her tea.  “What are you thinking?”

He smiles.  They knew each other for only a few brief months, so very long ago, and today has been nothing short of chaos.  Yet she can still tell that something is off with just a glance at him.  “Just… wondering how things will go from here.”

She tucks her legs beneath her and faces him, tilting her head with a bemused smile.  “I would have thought you had all of this planned out five steps ahead, with contingencies for everything.”  She says the words without judgment or bitterness.  Even now that she knows everything, she offers him nothing but a smile.  He truly doesn’t deserve her.

“I do, it’s just…”

“What?”  Her voice is soft and slow, and she lets him answer in his own time.  He struggles to put his thoughts into precise words.

“There’s no contingency for you,” he offers.  He turns to her, remembering so many years of loneliness and pain and sorrow without her, every day full of regret.  It’s stunning to think that just twenty-four hours ago he still mourned her death.  She watches him, bidding him to elaborate.  He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  “You’re the only thing I never planned for.  You’re the one person I was sure would never be a factor in any of it.”

“In your plan or in your life?”

He laughs bitterly.  It’s a rather pointless question.  For centuries they were one and the same, his end goal of finding Baelfire consuming him entirely.  Finding his son was his only reason to keep living, no matter whether he was forgiven or shunned.  Until today, that seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to live.

He sighs, and presses his hands against his teacup for warmth.  “I don’t know how to function with you in my life now.  I don’t know how you… _fit_.  I want to find a way to _make_ you fit,” he assures her hastily.  “I want to make a place for you, truly I do, but… I just don’t quite know how.”

Belle sips at her tea, staring into the cup for a few minutes.  “You said that before me, and since, Bae was the only thing that kept you going.  That without him you basically had nothing else to live for?”

He nods.

“Me being here just means… you have another person to live for.  It means that instead of living only for some vague, far-off hope of _someday_ finding your son, and always focusing on that far away goal… you have me with you right here and now.  It means you can be happy now, with me.  It means you have someone to help you and keep you company and support you while you look for him.  And for whatever comes after.”  She smiles.  “It means you have someone that you have to answer to if you do something stupid.  Someone to help keep you from doing bad things, and make sure you pay the price if you do.”

He laughs quietly.  That will probably prove to be a very good thing.  There would be no use in any of it if he becomes too power-hungry and screws everything up.  He has never liked the idea of being under someone else’s thumb, but if it must be done, he can think of no one better suited to keeping his heart and conscience centered than Belle.

As though she can hear his thoughts – there’s magic in the world again, perhaps she can – she sets her cup down on the coffee table, and takes his cup away as well.  She scoots closer to him until she is pressed right up against his side, her legs draped over his lap.  She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, her touch soft and sweet, kind and supportive all at once.  For a moment, he has no idea how he managed to survive entire lifetimes without holding her in his arms.  When she ends the kiss, she rests her head on his shoulder.

“You _are_ allowed to be happy, you know.  You don’t have to punish yourself forever for the things you’ve done.  There’s only so much punishment to be had before it just becomes pointless.”  She yawns as her fingertips trace patterns over his chest.  “I mean… you wouldn’t make someone keep paying you if their debt is long since settled, would you?  You can’t change what’s in the past.  All you can do is just… learn from it, and let it be, and try to grow from it.  So we’ll move on, we’ll find Bae, and we’ll go from there.”

“But go where?” he asks, still lost and confused.  She grins and closes her eyes, snuggling closer.

“You don’t have to plan out every little detail of this ahead of time, you know.  Some things in life are better as an adventure.”

He supposes if anyone would know about such a thing, it would be her.  “You’re falling asleep,” he whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She nods and yawns again.  “Been a long day.”

“I, uh… I only have the one bed.”  He could conjure another, he supposes, craft one from the magic in the air or perhaps just transport one from Granny’s inn.  Decades without magic have left him a bit rusty, though, and with his powers not yet at their peak, he’s as likely to summon the plumbing of the inn’s bathrooms as a bed.

Belle just shakes her head.  “That’s all right.  I’m comfortable sharing.”  She looks up at him sheepishly.  “If you are, I mean.”

He nods.  He knows nothing will happen between them tonight – they are both far too exhausted, emotionally and physically, for that.  But the thought of sleeping beside his Belle, to have her safe and warm and _real_ in his arms, where he can protect her, is so wonderful it nearly breaks his heart.

Together they stand, leaving the teacups to wait until morning, and he leads her towards the stairs.  On the second floor, he remembers something and stops suddenly in front of his office.  “I have something to give you, Belle,” he says, offering a genuine smile as he tugs her along into his office.  The room is filled with boxes and drawers and shelves, all overstuffed and piled high, like his shop and every other room in the house.  Without hesitation, he goes to a tiny antique jewelry box, tucked away safely in a desk drawer.  Belle eyes it curiously.

“Your father sold me quite a few trinkets over the years, when he couldn’t quite make his rent at the end of the month.”  He opens the box, and pulls out the single item inside, and Belle gasps.  “He was rather reluctant to part with this one, and I must admit I wasn’t especially kind when I accepted it.  But at least now I can return it to its rightful owner.”

He holds the golden chain out to her, the pearl dangling at the bottom, but Belle is trembling, her eyes welling up with tears, and she doesn’t take it from him.  He sets the box down and moves behind her.  With gentle hands, he unclasps her mother’s necklace, brushes her hair aside, and secures it around her neck, right where it always rested for every moment that he knew her.

She turns and hugs him tight, burying her face in his neck.  “I love you.”

He knows that whatever they face from here on in won’t be easy.  But he has his Belle, alive and real in his arms, mad enough to stand by him in spite of everything.  He may be a coward and a fool, but by some miracle she was brought back to him, and he’ll be damned if he lets her slip through his fingers again.  “I love you too.”

He leads her to his room, and she crawls into bed beside him, and she falls asleep using his chest as a pillow.


End file.
